Draco Malfoy and the Squeaky Shoes
by shilo1364
Summary: When spoiled toddler Draco's tantrums grow to epic proportions, they threaten Lucius' sanity. Narcissa saves the day with a pair of muggle squeaky shoes. family, fluff, and humor. One-shot. Complete. UPDATES: podfic available on archive of our own - archiveofourown (dot) org (slash) works (slash) 11035707


**_Inspired by this video (on youtube): /watch?v=hn-2u-aDrNQ_**

From the moment he was born, Draco Lucius Malfoy was a spoiled child. His father determined that his son and heir would want for nothing, and took every opportunity to shower him with gifts. Before he learned to speak, Draco learned that he had only to look covetously at something, and his father would immediately purchase it for him. No matter how much it cost, no matter if it was even for sale, if Draco _wanted_ it, Lucius bought it.

Draco's mother was wary, but knew her husband. When Lucius was determined, not even his beloved Narcissa could change his mind. So she kept her misgivings and doubts to herself, even as her indulged child learned to _want_ more.

The first time Lucius was unable to grant his wish, Draco threw a tantrum. He screamed, he wailed, he threw himself to the ground and beat his tiny fists on the floor. He _wanted_ , and nothing would satisfy him.

Lucius, unaccustomed to dealing with wayward toddlers, appealed to his wife for help. She folded her hands, thinned her lips, and said "You got yourself into this mess, darling."

She never called him 'darling.' Not unless she was very, _very_ displeased. Lucius tried everything he could think of to appease his son – but nothing worked. He begged. He pleaded. He entreated. He offered gifts and bribes and dearMerlinyoucanhaveanythingjuststopthatinfernalracket. Sometimes Draco would deign to accept the bribes, but they merely staved off the storm. It grew, dark and thunderous, behind his large, expressive gray eyes.

Lucius developed tics, and would twitch and shudder whenever they neared anything that Draco might covet. His face became pinched and drawn, his hair thinned, from all the times he tore it out in frustration. He developed unsightly purple bruises under his eyes, and felt a nervous breakdown stalking him, teasing around the frazzled edges of his mind.

And then, one day, as they prepared to go out, he watched Narcissa approach them with something clutched in her hand, half-hidden by the folds of her robe. It wasn't like her to hide things from him. He craned his neck, attempting to see, but then she drew them out anyway.

They were shoes. Horrid, hideous, garish muggle shoes. Lucius wondered if it had already begun – if the madness had crept up on him all unawares. Narcissa knelt beside their son, slipped the white-and-red monstrosities over Draco's tiny feet. She helped him stand, watched as he took a cautious step, a small smile playing about her lips.

The shoes _squeaked_. Merlin help him, never mind his own imminent madness – his wife had quite clearly succumbed some time ago. Lucius watched with growing horror as Draco began hopping around the entryway, delighting in the wheezy _squeak_ that accompanied each step. Lucius opened his mouth to, well, to do something certainly. Admonish his son for making such undignified noises; admonish his wife for giving him the shoes in the first place. Because they'd never be able to take them back, now. A Draco who'd had something taken from him was even worse than a Draco who couldn't have what he _wanted_. Lucius shuddered. Narcissa shot him a quelling _look_ over Draco's head, mouthing "trust me."

In the end, Lucius didn't say anything at all. He shut his mouth with a quiet click, grabbed his cloak and cane from the house-elf's hands, and stalked down the steps. He waited for Narcissa and Draco, wincing at every noisy, squeaking step, and then apparated them all to Diagon Alley.

The peace (aside from the infernal, incessant squeaking) lasted a scant handful of minutes, and then Draco saw the first thing he _wanted_. Lucius groaned. Draco refused his bribes, turned his back, scowling. He'd recently graduated from screaming meltdowns to brooding, glowering silences. Lucius wasn't sure it was an improvement.

Narcissa indicated that he should approach their son. He gulped, nodded, and moved to put a hand on Draco's shoulder. Draco stomped angrily, turning away, and the shoes went _squeak!_ Lucius, astonished, saw Draco's set expression falter for the barest second, and felt a ray of hope pierce his heart. He repeated his earlier action; Draco stomped again. The shoes squeaked.

Step. Stomp. _Squeak!_ Step. Stomp. _Squeak!_

As sudden as a torrential rain from slow-gathering clouds, Draco giggled. The angry brooding fell away from his tiny face, replaced by astonished merriment. He grinned and stomped and laughed, the _want_ forgotten.

Lucius vowed in that instant to give Narcissa anything she asked for. No. The next ten – no, hundred – things she asked for. Anything was worth his sanity.

* * *

When, after the war and trials, a hesitant Narcissa reached out to her estranged sister Andromeda, she brought a peace offering.

Andromeda took the tiny shoes, puzzled. They were quite obviously muggle.

"They're for Teddy," Narcissa said softly, reaching out a delicate finger to stroke the chubby cheek of the boy in question. "They saved Lucius' sanity, I think, when Draco was little, and prone to sulking tantrums."

"But…" Andromeda frowned, still not understanding.

Narcissa smiled, laying the shoes beside the rocking chair. "Trust me."

And, later, when a still-puzzled Andromeda saw Teddy's tantrum averted, his scowls transformed to giggles by what seemed almost to be magic, she understood.

It took time, of course, to learn one another again. But they were sisters. And they had time, now.

* * *

When a beaming Harry and Draco brought home their first child from the orphanage they oversaw, Narcissa, Lucius, Andromeda, and Teddy were all there, along with the ever-growing Weasley clan, to welcome her into the family.

After the general hubbub had died down, Narcissa offered her welcoming gift: a tiny pair of red and white shoes. Harry was holding little Lily, so Draco accepted the shoes, frowning slightly.

"They're muggle."

Narcissa smiled slightly. "Yes. The designer was – "

"A wizard?" Draco interrupted, relieved. He couldn't quite fathom his mother buying muggle baby shoes, no matter how her views had relaxed after the war.

Narcissa frowned at him, giving him her best don't-interrupt-your-mother-or-try-to-put-words-in-her-mouth look. "No." she said, voice dangerously quiet. "A mother. And a genius."

"You should take her word for it," Lucius added, without a trace of irony or sneer in his aristocratic voice. "Those shoes saved my sanity."

Narcissa patted her husband's arm fondly, as she studied her son. "Trust me."

Harry thanked Narcissa graciously, trying not to laugh at the expression on his husband's face. Draco's views on muggles were nothing like they once were, but he had never quite been able to get rid of the edges of that disdainful sneer. But, then, Harry wouldn't have him any other way.

* * *

The first time Lily Potter-Malfoy's tantrum was averted by the wonderful squeaky shoes, Draco sent his mother a box of her favorite expensive chocolates, a giant bouquet of all her favorite flowers and a beautifully handwritten note only slightly smudged where grubby little hands had touched it, with words that occasionally lost their formal elegant tone and devolved into childish wonder. At the bottom, Harry's delightfully messy scrawl said merely, "Thank you." She treasured the note most of all.

* * *

Draco quietly bought the rights to the shoes' design, as well as the muggle factory that made them, and had his lawyer draw up a contract that compensated the managers of the factory handsomely, so long as they continued to make the shoes.

He bought a pair of the shoes for each of his and Harry's friends when they had children, and a pair for each of the loveable brats that Harry could never seem to leave at the orphanage. And the lonely little boy who lived deep in Draco's heart rejoiced whenever he saw Harry with their ever-growing brood.

Then, after watching one of the children at the orphanage throwing a tantrum, and watching the indecision on Harry's face as he internally debated whether they could really take in one more, without turning their home into an orphanage in its own right, he made a decision.

That night, he owled his lawyer. The next day, a pair of shoes arrived at the orphanage for every child who lived there. A letter arrived with the owls that delivered them, explaining the reasoning behind the gift, and bearing a contract that ensured every child at the orphanage would always have a pair.

Harry cried, when the director thanked them, at their next visit, and threw himself into Draco's arms. Draco decided then and there that every bit of trouble was worth it.

* * *

Draco gave a pair of the shoes to their first grandchild (and every one who came after that), bearing the laughter and ribbing of his friends and family with good humor. He would always catch his mother's eye, and share a secret smile, one he saved only for her.

* * *

Many years later, on a crisp fall day, under a cloudless sky, Draco sank shakily to his wool-clad arthritic knees and placed a pair of the red and white squeaky shoes reverently by an elegant marble headstone, along with a box of expensive chocolates, a bouquet of flowers, and a heartfelt note, smudged with grubby fingers and tears. He bowed his head, felt a few more tears fall. "Thank you, mother," he whispered.

A cool breeze lifted the thinning strands of hair from his forehead, tickling his nose with the scent of the flowers his mother loved. He smiled, their secret smile, and rose creakily to his feet. He turned, walked slowly down the path, the crunch of gravel beneath his feet rhythmic and strangely soothing.

Draco looked up, eyes inexorably drawn to the man who slouched comfortably against the wrought-iron gates that separated the stones in this small, private section of the cemetery from the rest. Harry's dark hair was as wild as ever, though it was heavily shot with strands of silver-gray. It made him look distinguished, Draco thought privately, especially with those vivid green eyes twinkling at him from behind the thin silver frames. His Harry. They'd been married now for more than five decades, and it still took his breath away, sometimes, that this man was his.

He took his husband's arm with a smile, and together they walked back to join their family.

~THE END~


End file.
